


Stalemate

by jennandanica



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-16
Updated: 2009-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elijah's still playing. Sequel to Consequences and Playing Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stalemate

Elijah and Sean are sitting with Viggo in a booth at the local pub. A few pints down and Sean and Viggo are talking about painting while Elijah watches Billy and Dom play pool, Orli leaning up against the far wall, watching and waiting for his turn to play the winner of the current match. Elijah's been asked to join them a few times but he has other plans. And now, he thinks, looking at Sean and Viggo, huddled close together, Viggo murmuring in Sean's ear, might be the time to put said plans into action. He's tired of being ignored.

"Sean?" he says, running a hand down the older man's arm.

"Yeah?" Sean replies, turning to face him, Viggo taking the break in conversation as an opportunity to grab another pint from the bar.

"I want you to do something for me," he murmurs into Sean's ear, his lips tickling Sean's skin, the older man trembling slightly at his touch.

"Yeah?" Sean asks again, suddenly wary without knowing why.

"I'm going to go into the washroom, Sean," Elijah purrs. "I want you to follow me in a couple of minutes. You'll find me in the last stall, the door unlocked, face against the wall, my jeans down around my ankles and my legs spread wide. I already prepared myself at home." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I want you to fuck me, take me as hard as you can, without saying a word. And when we're done, I want you to come back out here, again, without saying a word," he finishes, trying his utmost to keep the tremors running through him from becoming obvious to Sean.

"No," Sean says, choking the word out, his elbow coming up to shove Elijah away from him.

But Elijah expected this. Anticipated this resistance. And luckily for him, Viggo exhibits his usual perfect sense of timing in returning to the table at that precise moment.

Elijah stands. "Viggo?"

"Yeah?"

"I've told Sean to follow me into the washroom. If he doesn't follow me within five minutes, I'd like you to come instead. Or you can send Orli. I'll be in the last stall. Waiting."

Viggo's eyes grow wide at Elijah's statement but he takes a quick look at Sean, returns his eyes to Elijah and nods, shifting slightly.

Elijah catches Sean's eyes for a second, trying to telegraph how very much he wants it, needs it, to be Sean who follows him. Trying to convey that his words to Viggo are all part of the game.

Before he can lose his nerve, he turns on his heel and heads for the washroom.

***

Sean's left feeling stunned. He'd thought they were done with this game-playing, this mind-fucking, but apparently not. He's tempted like hell to say fuck it and not follow Elijah but looking at Viggo sitting there, watching Elijah make his way to the loo, sends such violent pangs of jealousy shooting through him that he knows he will follow. His cock, pulsing hard and insistent in his jeans, only reinforces the knowledge.

But still...

"You wouldn't go, would you?" he has to ask, taking another sip from his pint, trying to soothe his throat, which has gone so very dry.

Viggo smiles, shaking his head. "No... I wouldn't."

Sean breathes a sigh of relief.

"But I would tell Orli and he _would_."

The words hit Sean like a blow to the stomach. "You bastard," he growls.

Again, Viggo just shakes his head. "Go on, Sean. He's waiting."

***

The washroom appears empty when Sean steps into it. The lights are low and there's a tap that won't stop running.

Sean approaches the last stall, his heart pumping so violently he wouldn't be surprised if it burst through his chest. Pushes the door open to see Elijah standing there, like he said he would be, jeans pooled around his ankles, arms up flat against the wall, face turned from the door, his eyes presumably closed, waiting.

And Sean thinks he should probably find this erotic, should be turned on by his lover doing this, but he's not. Well, he is, but _that_ he can't help. His overriding thought, though, is one of anger. Anger at being manipulated this way, being made to choose, to do something that's so foreign to him.

But fine. He's here and Elijah's here. And the ache between his legs needs to be resolved, right here, right now.

He slips into the stall. Moves to stand behind Elijah. Unzips his jeans, pushing them down under his arse and releasing his cock from its confines. He stares at Elijah for a moment, noticing the mouth slightly open in expectation, the eyes closed tightly, lashes fluttering softly, the ribs heaving softly with fear or anticipation, maybe both.

Exhaling his resignation, he spreads Elijah's cheeks wide and lines himself up, shoving deep, balls deep, with the first thrust. Elijah whimpers. He might have prepped himself at home but it's obviously not enough and the friction is almost painful.

Sean's suddenly ashamed of himself. He wants to say something, ask if Elijah's okay, but he's been ordered not to, and fine, he'll play by Elijah's rules. Play by them to the bitter end, if need be. He draws back, pulling out to the head and then slamming in once more. Does it again and again and again. Elijah muffling his cries by biting on his arm, his eyes flashing open at one point to stare in shock at the wall before closing again, a single tear running down his cheek.

***

Elijah's not sure what he expected but it wasn't this. He'd thought it would be fun, thought it would be hot, thought, if he's totally honest with himself, that it would be another way of getting Sean to prove that he wants to be with him, would do anything for him, maybe even love him.

But this, this has nothing to do with that. This has to do with pain and hurt and anger. Taking and claiming and possessing. And he wishes he could bring himself to say something. Should be able to bring himself to say something. But he's the one who laid down the rules, allowed for no dissent. He's the one who brought this to fruition and besides, the sounds that Sean's making only serve to let him know that maybe Sean really wants it this way and somehow, he can't bring himself to interfere with that.

***

Sean shoves deeper, his breath puffing out through gritted teeth against the back of Elijah's neck. He's aware that he's causing Elijah pain, knows he's not enjoying this, but he's too far gone to stop and there is something deep within him that's taking an undeniable, if horrifying, pleasure in doing this. Helpless against himself, he rams into Elijah again, once twice three times and strangling a deep groan low in his throat, comes, emptying his load into Elijah, collapsing against his back with all his weight.

***

Elijah whimpers when Sean comes. His own cock is semi-hard, even against his will, which would see it completely flaccid against the wall. He is crying softly as Sean pulls out, wiping himself and zipping up, seemingly unaware of what's actually transpired.

***

Eventually, Sean steps back, tucking himself back into his pants and letting himself out of the stall, pausing for a moment outside the door. A few more seconds pass, Elijah finally hearing the washroom door click shut. He cleans himself with toilet paper and pulls his jeans back up, buttoning them with trembling fingers. Exits the stall, going to the sink and splashing some water on his face. And he thinks, as he looks at himself in the mirror, that he can trust Sean not to mention this. Can maybe pretend it never happened.

Stilling himself, he opens the door to the washroom and steps back out in the pub. Sees Viggo sitting at the table alone. Takes a quick look around but doesn't see Sean. Looks back at Viggo, who just shakes his head, the look on his face telling him everything he needs to know.

Elijah makes his way through the bar to the front door, pushing his way through the crowd, already knowing he will be too late. He bursts through the doors into the crisp cool New Zealand night, breathing hard and almost whimpering at the thought that he's fucked this up, fucked it up for good.

But scanning the parking lot, he sees Sean's car. Approaches it quickly, his heart beating so loudly he thinks that anyone within ten feet of him could hear it. Peers in the window to see Sean sitting on the driver's side, not moving, just staring at the dashboard.

Elijah tries the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Opens it and slips into the passenger seat, closing the door after him.

Sean doesn't say a word.

Elijah joins him in staring at the dashboard, wishing he had the words to make this all right, to say how very sorry he is for having done this. But he doesn't. Which doesn't mean he shouldn't try. "Sean..."

"No," Sean says, his voice low and firm. "Just don't."

Elijah bites his lip, turning to stare out the window, the tears welling up in his eyes once more, threatening to spill over as he fights to hold them back. Several minutes pass in silence and he wonders if they're going to just sit here all night, although anything would be preferable to Sean kicking him out of the car or telling him to fuck right off.

"Do you want me to take you home?" Sean finally asks, gaze still firmly planted in front of him.

"No," Elijah manages to choke out. "I don't."

"Right," Sean says, nodding his head. "Okay then."

He starts the car.


End file.
